


Words Said In Anger

by BananaLoaf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean in Denial, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Supportive Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaLoaf/pseuds/BananaLoaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harsh words to Cas end up changing things for Dean when he realises that he might lose his angel once and for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is my first story in this fandom, so please be kind! I have no idea how long this will be, but it will be a few chapters I think. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! :)
> 
> (For anyone reading my other WIP, Moving On, I will get back to it, I promise! Having some difficulties getting back into it, but I will do it as soon as I can.)

He had been on the road, chasing the sunset, for at least two hours before he let go of a little of the anger, and the guilt started to creep in.

 

His breath was still noisily harsh and his hands were headlined with white knuckles where he gripped the steering wheel. His heart had stopped pounding after a few miles, but even now his jaw was tight and the muscles up his back were tense with aggression and frustration.

 

What the fuck had he been thinking?

 

What the fuck had  _he_ been thinking, the guilt answered back. 

 

This moment was when the knuckles coloured slightly, and the breath quietened down just the faintest bit.

 

Shit. What the fuck had he even said before he left? He winced as he corrected his thought. What the fuck had he even yelled before he stormed out of there?

 

A fuzzy memory of shocked blue eyes swam before him. The look of appalled surprise had been the only emotion he had registered at the time, but now he hoped to God his recollection wasn't too accurate, because the hurt he could see in his memory of those eyes was palpable. 

 

No, not hurt. Devastation. 

 

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe. What the fuck had he done?

 

Hauling the steering wheel to the right, he pulled sharply into the side of the road, the grit flying under the tyres as he brought the car to a sudden and violent stop. For once, he didn't think about the damage he was doing to his car, his Baby. Instead, he slumped forward, head hitting the steering wheel as he tried in vain to breathe steadily, and banish those shattered blue eyes from his mind.

 

Breathing finally under control, he frantically tried to remember what he had shouted in his rage. After everything he'd already done to his friend in the past, all the times he had been cruel, or unthinking, what had he said that had caused such shock in such an unshakable being like him? If his memory was accurate, how had he caused that much pain? 

 

Another memory hit him, of the anguish-filled eyes glazing over and shutting down, emotion pushed out as a mask was firmly put in place. He remembered a brief nod, then watching as his friend turned and walked away, every inch of his back held stiffly as he walked out of the room. That was when getting out of there and driving for hours had become the only solution.

 

A phrase whispered through his head, followed by another, and another. All adding to the horror he felt as he sat at the side of the road. 

 

_stupid_

 

_make everything worse_

 

_useless_

 

_why are you even fucking here_

 

No, fuck! No, no no! He couldn't have said those things, could he? All because of, what? A fuck up that was down to  _all_ of them. He punched the steering wheel before launching himself out of the car and pacing beside it at the side of the road, light fading fast as the sunset finally got ahead of him.

 

His phone rang in his pocket for the fifth time since he'd left. It would be Sam. 

 

He didn't want to speak to his brother; he didn't want to have to explain his anger, or what he'd done, or why he'd done it. He wouldn't know how to answer anyway. He had no idea why he'd gotten so angry, or why he had launched a verbal assault on the angel. He didn't know why he'd left, or why he wasn't getting straight into the car to return home and make it up to them both. He'd never found apology easy, but today - today he should be able to do so without any trouble. Rarely had he been aware before of needing to apologise so badly for what he'd done.

 

Guilt had been his friend for a long time, especially since his little trip ‘down south’ a few years ago, but this kind of guilt? He stopped pacing and slumped down against the side of the Impala. His phone beeped. A text message, again.

 

With a shaky breath he opened his phone and scrolled through them. Six. All from his brother.

 

_Where are you?_

_  
What the fuck happened?_

_Dammit, Dean, where the fuck are you?_

_Dean you need to come back. Now!_

_Answer your goddam phone._

 

The last one was longer, but he couldn’t face reading it. He got as far as _You fucking asshole_ , then gave up.

 

He fired off a quick text instead. _Sorry. Am fine. Will b bck sn_. And turned off his phone.

 

~~~

 

Sam threw his phone onto the kitchen table with a growl of frustration. Now the asshole had switched off his damn phone. He still had no idea what the hell had gone on earlier. He hadn’t gone on the hunt with them, the job had seemed simple enough that he had elected to stay at home and clear out some rooms at the bunker. An accident blocking the road home had meant his trip to the grocery store lasted longer than expected, and when he got back to the bunker they had been robbed.

 

Well, he had thought they’d been robbed for about ten seconds, until he realized that their strange brand of security meant this was next to impossible. And yet the war room had been practically destroyed, with furniture thrown around, books all over the floor, and the remnants of what looked like his dinner dishes strewn around. His next thought was that something seriously unwanted had somehow gotten in through the various protections they had adorned the place with, a thought that was seemingly confirmed when he heard a bang echoing through the corridors of the bunker. He moved quietly, reaching for his gun, before it hit him.

  
Where the hell were Dean and Cas? They should’ve been home by now.

 

Another noise told him that whoever was in the bunker was in the kitchen. He approached the room cautiously, gun still drawn. The noises continued, various bangs and clatters as things were apparently moved around carelessly. Something smashed.

 

Sam sprang into the door way, then quickly lowered his weapon as he recognised the dark head of the man standing over the sink, arms straining as what looked like heaving breaths wracked through him.

 

“Cas?” he asked cautiously. He watched his friend stiffen in surprise and Sam was immediately worried. He had never been able to sneak up on Cas before. Who could sneak up on an angel?

 

“Cas? Are you alright?” He stepped into the kitchen, carefully. He noticed out the corner of his eye that a smashed coffee mug was on the floor by Cas’ feet. “Did you, uh, what happened to the war room, Cas?”

 

Still Cas didn’t say anything. He didn’t so much as twitch.

 

“Cas, you’re scaring me a bit, man. Where the hell is Dean?”

 

“He left,” came the whispered reply.

 

“Left? What do you mean, he left? For where?”

 

Cas turned abruptly from the sink and walked towards Sam, not looking him in the eye. As he passed he mumbled something that sounded like “my fault, Sam. So sorry.” Sam watched, mouth agape as Cas walked away up the corridor, towards the room he had been using as his own. He glanced down at the angel’s arms as they swung by his sides, noticing with horror that they were bleeding, quite heavily.

 

“Cas, your hands!”

 

Again, the angel said nothing as he walked away, disappearing into his room and shutting the door firmly. Sam wondered idly about following him with a first aid kit, until he realised that of course the angel could heal himself – he was clearly just choosing not to.

 

That’s when he first tried to phone his brother.

 

~~~

 

_“Please, Dean. Don’t, don’t ask me to….”_

_“Just get the fuck out, Cas. I don’t need you anymore. I never did.”_

 

Dean woke with a gasped cry, the empty Jack bottle rolling off the lumpy bed onto the not-so-clean carpet of the motel he had dragged himself to the night before. The dream had shaken him, and it took him a few minutes of panicked breathing to realise that he definitely had not said _those_ things to Cas. Whatever else he might have said, he never would have done that to Cas, or to himself.

 

He reached for his phone, groaning as he sat up, his head swimming fuzzily. It had been a while since he had necked half a bottle of bourbon before falling asleep. Phone finally located, he pressed tried to check the time, frowning at it as he realised he hadn’t switched it back on since the evening before. He swung his legs over the bed to sit up properly, glancing over at the curtains where faint daylight seeped through their considerable weight, telling him it was probably mid-morning already. Taking a deep breath, he switched his phone back on, watching as it lit up slowly, everything falling into place before him.

 

He was considering whether to text or call his brother, or whether he was brave enough to call Cas, when a succession of beeps sent through a bunch of messages. He decided these were perhaps preferable to facing up to things straight away, and decided to start where he’d left off.

 

_You fucking asshole, where the hell are you? I’m going out of my damn mind here. I can’t believe you would take off on me and not say where you were going, not after everything. What the fuck happened to Cas? He’s fucked up, and I have no idea what the fuck is going on. The idiot is bleeding and as far as I know still hasn’t healed himself, but I don’t know because he won’t let me in. What the hell happened on that hunt? Answer your fucking phone._

 

Dean flinched at the word ‘bleeding’, and read through everything else quickly.

 

_Are you 7, Dean? I can’t believe you’ve turned your damn phone off._

 

_Cas still won’t talk to me. What the fuck did you do? He only ever gets this upset when it’s about you._

 

_Won’t switch your phone back on, fine. Here’s what you left behind._

 

Dean opened the attachment to see a photograph of what looked like a totally fucked up war room. Had he done that? No, his anger had all gone to Cas. Which meant… shit.

_Shit Dean. You need to come home._

_Now, you jackass!_

 

The last message had been sent at 1.12am.

 

Shit, shit, shit. Quickly, Dean dialled for Sam. He answered on the second ring.

 

“Dean, what the fuck? I’ve been trying to get hold of you since yesterday!” Sam sounded furious.

 

“I know, Sammy. I just read the messages.”

 

“What happened? Did something happen on that hunt? Are you hurt?”

 

“Sammy, I’m fine,” Dean said quietly.

 

“Good, then you can get back here and fix whatever you did, you asshole.”

 

“I know, Sam. I fucked up, ok?” Dean tried to keep the frustration out of his voice.

 

Sam sighed down the phone. “I still don’t even know what happened.”

 

“I’ll tell you later. Just tell me, Cas…” he trailed off.

 

“What?” Sam’s voice was sharp.

 

“Is he still… hurt? You know, bleeding?”

 

“Jesus Christ, Dean! Did you do that to him? I assumed he’d…”

 

“No! For God’s sake, Sammy. I would never-” he bit the end of the sentence off, knowing it was a lie. He had hurt the angel too many times in the past. But never in his right mind. Never, when he knew what he was doing. He sighed, and finished speaking more softly. “I read your messages, remember?”

 

“You need to come home, Dean.”

 

Alarm bells were ringing louder than ever in Dean’s head. “What-, is he…?”

 

“He’s not bleeding anymore, Dean,” Sam interrupted. “At least, he wasn’t. Last time I saw him.”

 

Dean went cold. “What d’you mean, Sam?”

 

“He’s gone, Dean.”

 

“Gone? What the fuck do you mean, gone?”

 

“I mean he took a leaf out of your book and took off, Dean, what else would I mean?” Sam snapped.

 

_Fuck. Shit, shit, shit._

 

“Where the fuck is he?”

 

“How the hell should I know? He left when I was sleeping. I saw him about 1am, when he appeared into the war room, but he left again when he saw that I had cleaned everything up. He wasn’t bleeding then. He was gone when I woke up this morning.”

 

“Shit, Sam. I never meant…”

 

“What the fuck happened, Dean?”

 

He ignored the question. “Did he say anything, when you saw him?”

  
“No,” Sam sighed. “But he left a note this morning. _Thanks for everything, Sam. Tell Dean, I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.”_

Dean said nothing, but just let the guilt flow in. He took a shaky breath, which he realised Sam would hear down the phone.

 

“Come home, Dean,” Sam’s voice was soft, for the first time.

 

“I’m on my way,” he said, hanging up the phone. He let it fall from his hands and put his head in them instead.

 

What the hell had he done? Cas was family. He had to fix this, somehow. Before the angel got himself in too deep.

 

_Shit, Cas._

_Don’t do this. Please._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has some explaining to do, and some thinking.

It took four hours to get back to the bunker; four hours of trying to distract himself with music, four hours of sporadic praying. ( _Please Cas, come back. Cas, get your feathery ass back to bunker. Please._ ) 

 

No apologies though. He had no idea what to say.

 

Finally pulling up outside, Dean squeezed the steering wheel for moment or two, hard enough to hurt. He wasn't sure he wanted to face this. He wasn't sure he wanted to face Sam. He wanted to go inside and find out that Sam had lied; had scared him into coming home to get back at him for what he had done to Cas.

 

He also had a feeling that once he spoke to Sam, he wouldn't be able to pretend anymore that he couldn't remember every single thing he had said to his friend.

 

"Sort yourself out, man," he muttered to himself. "It's your own damn fault, so get in there and face it."

 

Resigned, he pulled himself reluctantly out of the car moved towards the bunker's entrance. He paused to straighten his shoulders before opening the door and stepping into the gloom.

 

Sam was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

 

"Well?" he crossed his long arms and stared at his big brother.

 

"What, Sammy?" Dean growled, moving himself past Sam and into the war room, hoping his brother wouldn't notice his reluctance to make eye contact.

 

Sam snorted. "Are you kidding me, Dean? What the fuck happened? And where the hell did Cas go?"

 

Dean threw himself into a chair and scrubbed his hands tiredly down his face. He looked up to see Sam in front of him, looming in the space before him with his arms folded and a seriously pissed off look on his face. 

 

"Tell me, Dean!"

 

"Alright, Sammy!" he groused back, before softening his tone with a sigh. "Alright."

 

"Is he in trouble, Dean? I've got no idea how long he's been gone for, so you need to start talking if we're going to help him."

 

"I've tried, ok?" Dean spat, suddenly angry. "I've prayed to him, over and over, Sam. He's not answering, and he won't listen."

 

"Why not? He always answers you, always."

 

"No, he doesn't Sam." Dean whispered sadly. "Not when I've hurt him. And you know he can be a stubborn son-of-a-bitch." Dean didn't have to look at Sam to know there was a raised eyebrow getting directed at him. "I know, I know."

 

Dean glanced at Sam, waiting for him to say more, but then realised that his brother was impatiently waiting for answers to all the questions he had asked, that Dean had avoided. He wanted a beer, but he didn't think Sam would give him the time to go and fetch one.

 

"The hunt, yesterday..." Dean trailed off. He wasn't sure he could even explain himself. Starting this conversation was already showing him how out of line he had been with Castiel the day before. Sam didn't speak; just waited for Dean to continue.

 

"It wasn't a ghost, like we thought. The good ol' simple salt and burn, yeah? Not remotely. Cas was...wary, as soon as we got there, said something wasn't right, and I, well I dismissed it, of course. Dismissed a damn angel of the lord, because I knew better."

 

Dean chuckled humourlessly. "Of course I knew better, when do I ever not?"

 

Sam, again said nothing, but Dean didn't want to look at him to see the agreement there. He was aware that his treatment of Cas, and Sam to some extent, had been poor of late. He was short with the angel, not listening to him, and avoiding him when he could. He wasn't even really sure why.

 

"Fuck, Sam. He just let me decide that I was right, and we went on like it was a plain ol' haunting."

 

"What happened?" It seemed to Dean like the fiftieth time Sam had asked that question now.

 

"It was demons, goddamn demons Sam. At least twelve of them."

 

"Then how the hell-?"

 

"It was a damn trap, Sam! They lured us up there to get rid of a fucking ghost that never existed, and got us right into their waiting arms."

 

"What the hell did they want with you?" Sam sounded like he was warring with several emotions at once.

 

Dean could only feel one, and it was threatening to gather tears in his eyes. "They didn't want anything, not with me."

 

~~~

 

The drive up had been long, and tense almost the whole way. Dean was still reluctant to be alone with Cas, with no real reason why, and Cas was quite clearly more than aware of it. 

 

Conversation was stilted, and sporadic, and mostly based around what Sam was up to while they were away or what they were going to eat when they stopped at the motel. Eventually, Dean felt so awkward that he faked tiredness and asked Cas to take over the drive while he napped. Cas agreed readily, but with an air of sadness about him that Dean tried hard to ignore. 

 

As they switched, Dean realised that this had, in fact, been a genius plan. If he slept now, he would be able to argue that they just drive back after taking out this ghost. No need for sleep later in an awkward double room if he got some just now, right? This thought relaxed him so much that he managed to drop off easily.

 

He woke what appeared to be a few hours later to see that Cas has pulled into the parking lot of a diner, and was waiting patiently for Dean to wake up.

 

"We here?"

 

"Yes, Dean. I ... I thought we could eat here, before we go and deal with the hunt." Cas didn't turn to look at him, and Dean felt strangely... relieved, but empty.

 

He shrugged. "Sure Cas." He realised with a sickening jolt that that was the nicest he had been to Cas in a few days, and resolved to be nicer to his friend. He was, after all, the best one that Dean had.

 

Dinner was better. Dean made himself relax, and soon they were actually talking and joking like they normally would. The happiness in Cas' eyes when they finally met Dean's made him feel momentarily sick to his stomach as he realised that what had made Cas so delighted was just being treated like a friend. Dean shook off the feeling with his resolve of getting over whatever was bugging him, and being good to Cas from here on.

 

It didn't last.

 

The minute they stepped into the barn that all their investigations had quickly led them to, Cas' warnings about something not being right came back to haunt them. They stepped inside and walked a few steps into the space, looking for something that could be the object they were looking for. The only belongings left of their murdered ranch owner were in here, apparently, so they just needed to burn everything they found. Easy. They didn't get very far before the doors were slammed shut behind them, and hunter and angel spun round to find two men behind them. 

  
Cas growled "demons", and immediately raised his hands to smite their asses, but the grins on their faces stopped him. That and the fact that he couldn't seem to do anything.

 

They heard laughter behind them, and spun round once again to see that they were surrounded. 

 

"What the fuck do you want?" Dean spat at them.

 

"Now, now, Dean Winchester," one of them stepped forward, a large man, in all senses, with sallow skin and a deep voice. "Aren't there other questions that need to be answered first?"

 

Neither Cas nor Dean gave him the satisfaction of asking any of the plethora of questions that swirled through their heads. It didn't matter, he answered them anyway. The demon lifted an amulet off his chest and held it out in front of himself, stepping uncomfortably closer until he held it right in front of Dean's face. Cas growled quietly beside him, hands still raised and ready to smite anything that moved, assuming he could.

 

"Personal place, man, come on," Dean went for the usual bravado. The demon just grinned at him.

 

"Do you like it, Dean? What about your angel? Hmm? Got ourselves a nice little witch and made a nice little bargain, didn't we boys?"

 

The rest of the demons that circled them laughed in what was apparently agreement.  Dean glanced around and noticed that all of the demons wore identical amulets.

 

"What the fuck are you talking about, ugly?" Dean asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

 

"A nice little bit of mojo, this is. You not wondering why your angel couldn't detect that we were here? Why he can't use his powers against us?"

 

Shit. Cas tensed beside him, but didn't drop his stance. How the hell had these, these  _things_ , got themselves a witch that would do that for them? Or could? Dean was pretty sure that there weren't many witches out there that could brew up something powerful enough to stop an angel from accessing their powers, but somehow he was seeing the evidence of it right in front of him.

 

"Then I'll say it again,  _asshole_. What the fuck do you want?"

 

"With you? Nothing." Dean was grabbed by two pairs of extremely strong hands, and tossed unceremoniously to the side. He heard Cas' roar of rage as he landed, and managed to lift his head enough to see that Cas must have been grabbed by the rest that had surrounded him; more demons than he could count, in the second he took in the sight for. The angel was struggling against them, landing a few heavy punches as he went, but without his grace in order his strength was all that he had.

 

"Cas!" Dean called, trying to get to his feet. His attempt was met by a blow to his abdomen and a strong punch to the face. He felt, and heard, his nose crack.

 

"Now you, Castiel," the leader of this little pack of scum was standing close to Cas's face, the other demons clearly using a whole load of strength to hold back the furious angel. "You, I want something with."

 

Everything inside Dean was screaming at the demon to leave Castiel alone, but he was winded and he kept silent, watching in avid terror as the demon moved his face in even closer.

 

"Someone doesn't like you very much, oh-Angel-of-Thursday," he sneered. Dean could feel the fury radiating off of Castiel from several feet away. He had no idea how these stupid demons hadn’t cowered away by now. It frightened him. "And who am I to refuse an enticing offer when all I have to do is get rid of you?"

 

The demon stepped back a couple of paces and produced a long, ornate blade from the sleeve of his dirty sweater. Cas glanced down at it, and immediately began to struggle once again. This was what brought Dean out of his hazy daze and back to his senses. A quick glance told him that the two demons that were guarding him had turned their backs to watch the expected demise of an angel.

 

In a second, Dean had pulled out his own weapon and the two demons in front of him were dead. He yelled out as the blackness dissipated in front of him, the poor vessels dropping to the floor. It worked. Kind of.

 

The demons holding onto Cas split into two groups, with several of them heading towards the hunter. Cas' struggles ended as he started throwing the remaining demons off him with more ease. He couldn't zap them away with one finger, but he was still stronger than them.

 

Dean snapped his attention back to the demons that were approaching him, but he was brimming with adrenaline and anger, and he took both of them out with ease. As the last one fell, he felt another presence behind him and suddenly he was in the clutches of the leader. Dean looked up and saw that Cas was down to four demons, his own blade in his hand as he took them down one by one. The cold metal of the demon's blade pressed into Dean's neck and the hunter tensed, dropping Ruby’s knife reluctantly at the hissed instruction.

 

"Oh Castiel," the demon called out softly. Chuckling when Cas instantly stopped fighting and turned towards them; luckily, or maybe sensibly, the demons did too. Clearly, they were not present to be the one to kill the angel.

 

"What do you want?" Cas asked, his gravelly voice leaving no being in that space in any doubt of how livid he was at the sight before him. The demon released Dean and shoved him to one side, pointing the blade out towards the hunter as he circled slightly towards the angel.

 

"I told you, Angel," the demon continued to talk in that soft voice that made Dean want to make him eat his own balls. "I have to end you, but I won't hesitate and kill your little hunter here first in front of you. No one said I had to make it a pleasant experience, after all. I bet you can't think of anything worse than watching him die, can you? Especially when you know where you'll end up once I kill you with this." He nodded his head at the knife that was still held out to Dean, a couple of feet away from his chest.

 

"Let him go, right now." Cas said in a voice that brooked no argument, but Dean didn't miss the flinch when he glanced at the knife. What the hell was this thing?

 

“Are you really in a position to be making demands, Castiel? Found powers I don’t know about, have you?”

“Without your amulet you would have been dead the second you showed your face,” the angel said.

 

“Of course! But I have my amulet, don’t I? Sort of evens the odds, don’t you think?” the demon chuckled.

 

Relaxing was his first mistake. Cas threw himself forward in a fury, nowhere near his usual speed, but still almost faster than Dean could see. The hunter’s eyes widened as the demon in front him reacted with speed, lunging for Dean, the knife still held high and ready to slash through his vulnerable flash. Instead of the sting of the blade, however, he felt a solid mass tackle him, throwing him to the ground. He heard a hideous screech of pain, then the sound of running feet, but for the second time in ten minutes he was winded and couldn’t move.

 

His brain chanted _Cas, Cas, Cas_ , as he tried to regain his breath and roll himself at the same time, desperate to see what was happening. His hearing was fuzzy, but he could hear the murmur of voices, then felt a thud as something fell to the ground next to him.

  
“Cas!” he grunted, desperately. A second later, blue eyes loomed over him for a second, before they disappeared and Dean felt another body fall beside him. Dean groaned with effort as he threw himself to face where Cas now lay beside him, lurching himself up into a sitting position. His side screamed where Cas had hurtled into him at speed, but he ignored it. He needed to check on Cas. Something in the brief glimpse he’d gotten of the angel’s eyes had worried him.

 

“Cas?” he croaked, his breathe finally pushing through his lungs with more success. “Cas, what the hell happened man, are you alright?” He glanced quickly around him, noting the vessel of the lead demon next to him, and the absence of the rest of them. Guess that explained the pounding feet.

 

“Dean..” Cas’ voice was weak and trailed off quickly. Dean redirected his attention back to him and pulled the angel onto his back, before lifting his hands from his body in horror. He was bleeding, profusely, from a deep gash that ran from his left shoulder to his belly.

 

“Shit, Cas. Are you ok, buddy?” Dean’s hands fluttered above his friend, desperate to help, but with no idea where to start. “Can you fix it? Hurry up, man!”

 

He could hear the panic in his voice, but he didn’t care. This injury looked hellish, and it wasn’t disappearing quickly enough for Dean.

 

“The knife...” Cas gasped. “I will heal, Dean, but it will take time. You must…remove us from here, if you can.”

 

His heart in his throat, Dean did just as the angel asked. It took some time, and the sacrifice of Dean’s favourite shirt to try and staunch some bleeding, but they got back to the Impala and he laid Cas across the back seat. The angel lost consciousness immediately, and Dean started driving.

 

~~~

 

“What the hell kind of blade was it?” Sam asked, his eyes widened by Deans story of the hunt. “Was Cas ok? He looked ok, mostly.”

 

“I don’t know a damn thing about it, Sam. We, uh, we didn’t get as far as talking about it.”

 

Dean looked up and saw his brother waiting for him to continue. He did so quickly, getting more worried by the minute about where Cas could have gone.

 

“I pulled over a few times on the way back, trying to give him time to heal without jostling him around in Baby’s back seat, but it was so slow Sam,” Dean’s hear rate quickened at the memory of the fear he had felt watching his angel struggle so much to heal. “By the time we got back here the wound was gone, so I woke him to bring him inside. He was ok. Still weak, but ok. I brought him down here and sat him down to ask him what the hell had happened, but he-” Dean broke off, knowing that Sam was going to be furious for the rest of the story. He hung his head, but spoke clearly enough that he wouldn’t have to repeat any of it.

 

“Before I could ask him, he looked at me, those damn big eyes all sad and concerned, and he reached out and healed me. He had absolutely no strength to walk on his own, but he fucking healed me Sam!” Dean could feel the anger build again. “What the fuck was he thinking? He nearly collapsed after he did it, Sammy, just because I had a fucking broken nose! Anyway, I… well, I didn’t react too well to him using his grace to help me and I might have… I might’ve exploded at him. A little.”

 

“He was ready to collapse, and you yelled at him?” Sam asked, incredulous.

 

“You weren’t there, Sam!” Dean snapped. “He didn’t have the strength for it; he didn’t have the strength for anything, and he used what he had for me! For me, Sam. He should’ve been using it to fix himself, not me. I dunno what the fuck that knife was, but I’m pretty sure it could’ve killed the moron Sam, he could’ve died! And instead of making sure he was fine, he gave up more of his goddamn strength!” Dean realised he was yelling.

 

“Let me understand this, Dean. He saved you by jumping in front of that knife, almost died, then you yelled at him for fixing you?”

 

“He could’ve died, Sam! He had no business stepping in front of anything for me!”

 

“And there we have it, Dean!” Sam yelled back, shocking Dean into stopping the pacing he’d begun since leaping to his feet and staring at him, his mouth hanging open. “Do you think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been around him the last few weeks, Dean? How you’ve dismissed him, avoided him?”

 

“Sammy, I-”

 

“Ever since the hunt in Louisiana, Dean,” Sam pointed an accusing finger. “Ever since he got hurt stopping that vampire from biting you, even though he healed himself in a second, ever since then you’ve been awful to him. Please tell me you get why, you damn fool?”

 

“It has nothing to do with that, Sammy!” Deny, deny, deny.

 

“It has everything to do with it! You can’t stand it when he gets hurt to save you, even though you should be damn grateful.” Sam glared at Dean. He couldn’t believe his brother sometimes.

 

“Of course I’m grateful, Sam. Doesn’t mean he should be getting himself hurt to save me!”

 

Sam just looked at him, eyebrow raised and arms folded as he waited for Dean to understand what was happening.

 

“I am grateful when he saves us Sam, I don’t have a death wish.”

 

“I never said you did.”

 

Sam watched, eyes not wavering from his brother’s face as he resumed pacing, his brain fighting to understand and to deny all at the same time.

 

“It’s not about him saving you, Dean,” Sam said softly. “It’s about him getting hurt.”

 

Dean threw himself back into the chair and buried his face in his hands. After a few moments, he raised tear-filled eyes to look at his brother.

 

“Shit, Sammy,” he whispered.

 

There it was. “Now let’s get to work, Dean. We have to find that angel so you can tell him you’ve got your head out of your ass.”

 

“Sam, what if-” Dean’s voice caught.

 

“I don’t want to hear it, Dean. We find him, we bring him home, you tell him.” Sam opened his laptop, which Cas has kindly not destroyed in his rage in the war room, and got to work. “You, get praying and convince him to come home before this gets worse.”

 

Fuck. There was a strong possibility things couldn’t get worse.

 

_How stupid can you be, Cas?_

Don’t use it for me, save you, please!

 

_You’re great at that, you know. You just make everything worse._

In my world, when you get hurt.

 

_What the fuck are you using up your juice on me for? Useless!_

 

I’m useless, Cas. Me, not you. I am!

 

_Why are you even fucking here?_

What are you doing with me? I’m not good for you.

 

He hadn’t said any of the bits that mattered. He knew exactly what he had let Cas think. Too scared to be a man. Too scared to ask Cas if his thoughts matched Dean’s in any small way. What could he possibly say to the angel to explain what any of it meant? To make any of it better? Sometimes there was nothing you could say that would work.

 

Not even _I love you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm never really sure how action scenes come across, so please let me know!
> 
> Hell, just let me know if you're enjoying it! :)
> 
> B x


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean get to work, and Dean can't avoid his thoughts any more.

Dean did as his brother suggested and began to pray. His head still held in his hands, still slouched at the table, he prayed. He prayed while Sam did a quick search of Cas' room for his phone. He prayed while Sam called and called and sent message after message when the phone wasn't found. He prayed while Sam announced in a huff that Cas wasn't answering and set about tracking the device.

 

He prayed, and prayed. But Cas didn't come.

 

No fluttering of wings, or his heart. No messy hair popping into existence, no sad, soulful blue eyes looking at him. No "hello, Dean" spoken gruffly and warmly from somewhere to close for comfort. Or not close enough.

 

_Cas, please. You need to come back._

 

_We need to know if you're alright, buddy._

 

_You don't have to fix anything, Cas, I promise. I have some things to fix, but not you. Just come home._

 

_You're our family, man. We need you. Come back please, I need you._

 

_Let use help you. Come on! Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. Guess I've been doing a lot of that lately, haven't I? I don't mean to, it's just...I worry._

 

_Goddamnit Cas, you're scaring me now! Come back, now. There's things we need to talk about, after we take care of whatever this is. I need you in one piece to have this conversation. Cas. Please._

 

_Just come home. Come back, to me. Please._

 

Nothing worked.

 

By the time Sam announced in triumph that he had a fix on Cas' phone, Dean was at the point of praying on repeat.

 

_Come home, Cas. Come home, Cas. Come home._

 

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and he finally raised his head. Sam was looking at him with determination, and a fair bi of pity.

 

"Come on, man. We need to get moving."

 

Dean watched for a moment as Sam strode around the room, throwing some things into a bag, and quickly packing up his laptop. Dean shook himself and marched straight for the door. There was nothing he needed to pack. He was taking his mess of confused thoughts and emotions, and that was all he had time to deal with.

 

He slid into the driver's seat of the Impala, drumming his fingers impatiently as Sam ran out the door a couple of second after him. The passenger door was barely closed before the car was moving.

 

"Where am I going Sam?" Dean asked, gruffly.

 

Sam's answer was quiet, and still laced with the pity that he didn't want to hear. He didn't deserve it.

 

"Wyoming. Rock River."

 

Dean steered the car in the right direction and headed for the I-70. "How long?"

 

"Dean..."

 

"Just tell me how long until we get there," he gritted out.

 

"It's a ten-hour drive, Dean."

 

"Sonofabitch," Dean spat. No way was this taking him ten hours. They would mostly be driving through the night, and Dean wasn't planning on making any stops once they had a full tank, or paying attention to any speed limits.  

 

They drove for almost forty minutes in silence, until Dean was forced to stop at a gas station, and Sam ran inside to gather some sustenance for the journey. Whatever he got in the tiny store would have to do them.

 

It was once they were back on the road that Sam decided to try and have The Conversation.

 

“So, Dean…”

 

“Leave it, Sammy.”

 

Sam sighed. The long-suffering kind. “Come on Dean, at some point you have to…”

 

“I don’t have to do anything, dammit!” Dean yelled, slamming his hand on the steering wheel to emphasise his point.

 

Apparently Sam wasn’t giving in this time. “Yes you do, Dean! You have to talk about it sometime! If you don’t talk to me now, what the hell do you think is going to happen when you talk to Cas, huh?”

 

“What the hell do you mean?” Dean practically growled at his brother.

 

“I mean that you need to work through all of these emotions, or you’re going to erupt at him the same way you’ve been doing for ages! You know you will; it’s what you always do when a conversation is difficult.” 

 

“I’m not having a chick-flick moment with you, Sam. Not right now.”

 

“Then you’re never going to have any kind of moment with Cas.”

 

Dean’s eyes widened at Sam’s words, as his brain took accepted them on a whole new level. What if he didn’t get to have any kind of moment with Cas? What if he never got to apologise? Never got to explain anything? Every moment they spent driving was another moment that Cas was in danger, without them. What if he never got the chance to work out what he and Cas even were?

 

“Sammy,” he began, quickly clearing his throat when his voice caught slightly. “What do we…what do I do if…”

 

He couldn’t turn to look at his brother. He didn’t need to anyway; he could feel the sadness and sympathy from his gaze boring into the side of his skull.

 

“Let’s just concentrate on getting there, ok?”

 

Dean nodded once and squeezed the accelerator a little harder. He wasn’t wasting any time.

 

The problem with refusing to talk, however, quickly became apparent when his mind filled the silence with other things. He tried praying again, but couldn’t continually do that without feeling a hideous sense of rejection every time Castiel didn’t quickly appear in the back seat of the Impala. He tried shoving a tape into the stereo, then the radio, but every track that came on seemed to exacerbate everything that he was feeling. His choice came down to talking to Sam, or letting his thoughts take him where they would. He decided to go with the latter. For as long as he could stand it.

 

Immediately his mind tried to take him back to the day before – was it really only that long? The wary part of his brain was not fucking happy about that, so he forced it back further. As soon as it stopped on its next target, he knew exactly why. Instinct told him to fight against thinking about it, but a large part of his conscious told him to ‘man the hell up’ and he focused instead.

 

So here it was: the moment he had acknowledged what he assumed was a new emotion to link to Cas, and the moment soon afterward that he had discarded it.

 

Dean had been fresh out the shower in the bunker; a shower he had been looking forward to since being covered in some unforeseen slime at the end of a late hunt the night before. A quick wash under a water pump to protect the precious interior of his Baby was all Dean could manage before they’d driven home, and after falling onto his memory foam mattress for a couple of hours of sleep, Dean had practically run to take advantage of the excellent water pressure he had access to.

 

He’d spent a happy twenty minutes sluicing himself, idly planning his breakfast, wondering if Sam would appear to be fed, then finding himself hoping that Cas would appear too. He hadn’t been around the bunker much for the last week or so, and they hadn’t really spoken much in the days before he and Sam had left for their latest hunt. Switching the water off, Dean resolved to call the angel down to join them. It would be nice to catch up, at least.

 

Now, dressed in a pair of comfy old jeans and his favourite led zeppelin t-shirt, Dean wandered towards the kitchen, just the last minute decision of whether the pancakes would be blueberry or chocolate chip still meandering in his head, when he heard the definite noise of someone humming in the kitchen. Was Sam up already? Unlikely; the big moose hadn’t slept much over the couple of days they’d been away. Reaching the doorway, he peered cautiously into the room, knowing instinctively that whatever was waiting for him wasn’t a threat.

 

“Hello, Dean.”

 

Dean grinned as Cas greeted him, then went back to his humming as he continued to potter about the kitchen, not even glancing up at the hunter as he stepped right into the room.

 

“Whatcha up to, Cas?” Dean heard the smile in his voice, and he was sure Cas must too, but what the hell. The angel was dancing a little in front of the coffee pot while he waited for it to finish; it was cute!

 

Woah, woah, woah. What the hell? _Cute?_ Not what he had meant at all. No way.

 

Then the angel turned to face him, and Dean’s brain halted completely.

 

He was speaking, saying words that Dean couldn’t possibly pay attention to. He was too busy taking in the slight smile on Cas’ face, the brightness of his eyes as he spoke, gesturing with his hands in that animated way he only did when he was completely relaxed. He also had some kind of batter smeared on one cheek and spattered into his hair on the opposite side, and Dean found himself almost overwhelmed by the sudden urge to _touch_. Before he regained control, his brain told him to walk over there and run his fingers through Cas’ perpetually-messy hair, and to use his thumb to gently wipe away the mess on his angel’s cheek.

 

His thoughts screeched to a halt. His angel? What the hell man? What was wrong with him today? Must’ve been something in that damn slime. Must have. That and Cas not having been around much lately – that’s all it was. Dean realised that Cas was staring at him, looking slightly confused, and fought for something to say.

 

“What?” he blurted out, gruffly. Nice, Dean. Nice.

 

Cas looked taken-aback. “Pancakes? They’re keeping warm in the oven. I…I thought I would make some breakfast to welcome you home. You and Sam.”

 

“Uh…ok,” Dean’s brain was screaming at him to retreat. The joy in Cas’ eyes was deadening in front of him, and that did not bode well with the wonkiness of his brain this morning when it came to the angel. “Thanks, I guess.”

 

Cas just nodded mutely. Dean almost winced as he watched a flash of sadness cross through those blue eyes. A huge part of him wanted to reach out and grab his friend and pull him into a hug, anything to take away that change of demeanour.

 

“I mean, great, Cas. Thanks, man.” Dean took a seat at the table, smiling at Cas and no doubt causing the poor guy a whole new level of confusion. He smiled again when Cas put a coffee mug in front of him, reaching out to grip it tightly. The slight burning of his hands worked rather well as a distraction to his alarming thought process. His brain was still telling him to reach out and touch, and Dean was working very, very hard to convince himself it was down to the slime.

 

Which had done nothing at the time, and he had thoroughly washed off not ten minutes ago. But still.

 

“Are you alright, Dean?”

 

Oh Christ. Now Cas was looking at him with that head tilt, and speaking to him in that warm, concerned manner that had always made Dean want to reassure him. He gripped his coffee cup tighter.

 

“Fine, Cas. Just peachy.”

 

He was saved from having to explain further by the perfectly timed entrance of his brother, who had apparently smelled pancakes in his giant moose dream and had been pulled along to the kitchen by the grumbling of his over-eager belly. Dean didn’t miss the slight disappointment in Cas’ face when their conversation was interrupted, but Dean welcomed Sam heartily, delving into the food that Cas placed in front of them with gusto, winking his thanks to Cas for taking the time to practise his cooking some time over the past few months, and ignoring the small flutter in his chest when Cas smiled gently back at him.

 

Yep. Everything was back to normal. Temporary insanity and all thoughts of cuteness in angels were gone. Absolutely.

 

~~~

 

“The pancakes,” Dean found himself saying, hand loosening on the wheel slightly.

 

“What?” Sam asked, head whipping up from his phone to look at his brother.

 

Dean sighed. “You remember that case in Iowa? That stupid monster with the slime? About two months ago?” He glanced to the passenger seat and saw Sam nodding at him. “When we got up the next morning Cas was there, and he’d made breakfast.”

 

“I remember. What of it?”

 

“It was then.”

 

“Dean, you’ve been silent for the last hour and a half. I have no idea what you’ve been thinking about, or what you’re talking about now.”

 

_In for a penny_ , Dean thought. Time for that damn chick lit moment after all. Damn him and his stupid mouth.

 

“The morning, with the pancakes. That’s when I realised, uh. That’s when I thought, well…”

 

Sam chuckled lightly beside him.

“Alright, Sammy! I noticed him, alright? I thought he was cute, for God’s sake. Cute! What the hell even is that Sammy? And before you came in, well I.”

 

“What? Did I interrupt something?” Sam sounded horrified.

 

“No! Of course not. I just, I wanted to… look, I thought he was cute and it made me happy for a moment, ok? My mind wandered and I let myself think about it for a few seconds, until I decided to blame the damn slime.” There. He’d said it. Kind of.

 

“The slime?” Sam laughed again. “You told yourself you looked at him that way because of the _slime_?”

 

Dean said nothing; just frowned at the dark road in front of them.

 

“And what did you tell yourself all of the other times, Dean?”

 

“All the other times?” Dean’s eyes widened.

 

“Are you serious? You’ve been looking at him like that for years, Dean! I noticed it after purgatory, but it’s been longer than that.”

 

“What? Aw hell no, Sammy. No way, I…what?” He couldn’t compute what his brother was saying.

 

“Years, Dean,” Sam said firmly.

 

Dean thought about this for a few minutes. Purgatory? Before that? But he’d… No, no way. What the hell?

 

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Sammy?” he yelled, indignant.

 

“Because I assumed you knew, you stupid jerk!”

 

They drove in silence for another few miles.

 

“Well, evidently I’m not as smart as you thought.”

 

“Evidently.”

 

“Shut up, bitch.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Jerk.”

 

~~~

 

The streets were empty in the oppressing darkness of the cloudy night as they drove around, honing in on the signal they were relieved to see was still in Rock River when they switched on the laptop an hour before. Dean had frantically begun praying again, and Sam had started phoning again, over and over.

 

Nothing.

Out past the middle of town, they reached an old warehouse. A huge building of three floors, that had once belonged to a power company some years before. Dean pulled the Impala to a halt a little way down the road and quickly jumped out of the driver’s seat, ignoring the twinges in his legs as they adjusted to moving properly again for the first time in what had been thankfully only seven and a half hours. Sam was at his side seconds later, helping him select a small array of portable weapons.

 

Both of them were aware that they had no idea of what was going to meet them, and neither of them were willing to acknowledge their shared thought that seven and half hours could have been far too long. The thought that it was too late to save Cas terrified Dean and he wouldn’t let himself dwell on it, and Sam wasn’t far behind him in his fear.

 

They approached the door quietly, listening carefully for signs of danger. Nothing approached them.

 

Just as he was about to step inside, Sam reached out and touched Dean’s arm.

 

“We need to be careful,” he whispered. “And Dean, if Cas it…”

 

“Don’t!” Dean answered harshly. “We’re not too late, Sam. We’re not. So can we get in there and find him please?”

 

The answer he received didn’t come from Sam. It was a scream of agony that pierced the air and made every drop of blood in Dean’s veins freeze in an instant.

 

He ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, yet again.
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> B x


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of violence here! Be warned!
> 
> B x

Everything inside Dean was screaming at him to throw himself through the building, screaming for Cas as he ran, but there was just enough hunter left with a say to stop him. He ran, knowing that there was no chance of him going any slower, but he did so as stealthily as possible, blade in one hand and his gun in the other.

 

Without speaking, the brothers took opposite doors on the large corridor that greeted their entrance, keeping pace with one another as they thrust opposing doors open, always ready for back up if it was needed. It only took them a minute to check all ten rooms.

 

His final room proving empty, Dean looked over his shoulder to where Sam was standing across the room, shaking his head grimly. First floor clear. Sam tilted his head to the side to indicate the stairs that sat in the middle of the corridor, halfway back towards the door. The tilt brought a brief lump to Dean's throat, but he shook it off and nodded at Sam, moving quietly and quickly to meet his brother at the bottom of the stairs. They ran up them quickly, finding themselves in a much more open and square space than they had been in on the floor below. Here there were only three rooms, but they were so spaced out that Dean knew they would need to check them together this time. For a brief moment, his brain touched on the idea that another scream would help, but he recoiled in horror at the thought.

 

Until his traitorous pessimistic brain pointed out what the lack of further screams could mean. He told his brain to fuck off.

 

He moved off to the first door, Sam silently following.   _Please, just please be in here._  He was chanting to himself, keeping time with his heart which was throbbing quickly in his chest. Reaching out, he grabbed the door handle. A quick glance over his shoulder gave him a nod from Sam. Dean thrust the door open, throwing himself through it with his gun and his knife both raised defensively.

 

His heart stopped for a moment. The right room.

 

There was no movement. There were two bodies.

 

Dean heard Sam breathe out his name beside him and closed his eyes. Clearly, his brother was seeing the same thing that he could.

 

The body closest to them was blonde. And short. And female. The other body was at the far end of the room, hidden in the gloom of the early morning light that was starting to seep in through a few high up windows. This body was male, and dark. And reasonably tall. Its back was to the hunters, and that back was clothed in a blood-soaked shirt.

 

It lay beneath some hanging chains, which were still swinging as if something had recently been held up by them. The air smelled faintly of vanishing ammonia - and blood.

 

Dean opened his eyes again, forcing himself to look at the body. Tentatively, he took a step forward, swiftly followed by another. He had to get there. Cas might still be alive, he might still...

 

But instinct told him that there was no life to be found at the far end of the room.

 

Still, Dean's footsteps quickened in their pace - until his entire body froze when he saw what lay on the ground off to the side.

 

A fucking trenchcoat.

 

Dean heard the gasp that caught in his throat, heard another echoed behind him, and then heard the breathless moan that started softly and crescendoed as he broke into a run. He couldn't stop the sound that he made; he didn't have enough control left to even try.

 

A few strides away, Dean's body gave up entirely. His knees screamed as they hit the floor, but he ignored them in favour of concentrating on holding in the scream that was trying to escape from his throat.

 

It was him. It  _was_  him. Dean was closer now, and he could see. That was Cas. Cas was lying, unmoving, on the floor in front of him. It was his hair, his shirt that was soaked in his blood. It was the curve of his spine, it was his arm that was twisted backwards behind the body, bloody wrist dangling awkwardly with drips still pooling beneath the hand on the floor.

 

Dean's head dropped to his chest as he fought the emotions that threatened to engulf him. He barely noticed as Sam ran past him. He dimly heard his brother throw himself on the floor, the hoarse shout of 'Cas!', and the gasp that followed. Dean's mind wouldn't let him focus on anything, until he felt large hands grasp him firmly by the shoulders, and a voice calling to him. Even then. he couldn't hear what it said.

 

_He's gone. Cas is gone. He's gone, and he thought I hated him. He never knew. He never knew._

 

"Dean!" the hands shook him until he lifted his head, and Sam's grinning face appeared before him. "It's not him, Dean. It's not Cas!"

 

He couldn't even be embarrassed by the sob that escaped him as Sam's words sank in. He staggered to his feet, pushing past his brother before collapsing next to the body to see for himself.

 

He almost laughed as he looked more closely. How could any part of him have thought that this was Cas? This man was shorter, older, stockier. The hair was a shade too light, and was sitting far too neatly to have ever belonged to his angel. The spine curved slightly to the side, while Cas was straight and firm.

 

Fear had led him to this, but Dean knew the angel far too well to have ever thought in his right mind that this was Cas.

 

He crawled slightly to the side and grabbed the coat that he had spotted earlier, looking it over quickly.

 

"This is his," Dean said. There was a mark on the left cuff that marked it out as Cas'.

 

"So he was definitely here, then," Sam said. "Then where the hell is he now?"

 

"Try calling him again," Dean said. While his brother obeyed the instruction he sent off a quick prayer.

 

_Cas, this isn't funny anymore, man. If you can hear me, get your ass down here. We have no idea what's going on, and it's scaring us._

 

A little bit of honesty, at least. He wasn't quite ready to point out the effect his emotions were having on him. He still wasn't sure he would be able to acknowledge it...no,  _when_ , they finally found the damn guy.

 

A noise behind him broke into Dean's thoughts. He sprang to his feet, whipping round to face the opposite end of the room.

 

"What the hell was that?" Sam asked beside him.

 

They two of them froze, looking carefully for a sign of what made the noise. It quickly became obvious, when the other 'body' they had passed near the door moved slowly into a seated position.

 

"Shit, Sammy. It's alive!"

 

The two of them ran to the other end of the room, watching as the demon, for some reason struggling to hold onto its vessel despite the serious injuries it was sporting, noticed them coming and struggled to get to its feet. Dean noticed movement from the corner of his eye, and realised that Sam was getting ready to kill it once and for all.

 

"No, Sam," he grunted as they ran. "Information first." He muttered the last just as they reached the demon, who was now looking at them with mild panic. Slamming into him, Dean and Sam held him to the floor, glad to find he was weakened by the bloody injuries that covered the stolen vessel. Without the demon's inhabitation, this poor man would be dead already.

 

Dean raised his fist and punched the demon across the face, hard enough to stun it into submission for a few seconds and Sam's knife pressed to its throat.

  
"What happened here?" Dean yelled at him.

 

The demon's face showed fear for a few seconds, then settled into a mask of indifference.

 

"I don't think he wants to tell us anything, Dean," Sam muttered. The tone of his voice making clear to their captive exactly what he thought about that.

 

"Then we'll just have to make him, Sam," Dean replied, allowing a small grin to grace his features. He felt an uneasy thrill as he thought about getting to work on the demon, disturbed by the pleasure the idea gave him. No, it was fine. This piece of scum knew something about Cas, and he would do whatever he needed to do to find out anything he could. Besides, the son of a bitch was a  _demon_.

 

"Knife, Sam."

 

Sam handed over the weapon silently, taking over the role of holding the demon down tightly, while Dean got to work. He didn't question his brother's right to be the one to do this - but he didn't quickly wonder how far Dean was willing to go.

 

Luckily, the demon seemed to sense that the hunters were on some kind of emotional edge, and tried speaking up instead.

 

"I don't know anything," he tried. His vessel came with a lilting, soft voice.

 

"Try again." Dean growled, knife poised and ready to do some more damage.

 

"I mean it!" the demon was squirming again.

 

"Where is he?" Dean's anger took over a little more.

 

"Beljax?"

 

"Who the fuck is Beljax?"

 

The demon's eyes betrayed his panic once again as he realised he had given some detail away that he wasn't meant to. he just shook his head, which made Dean grin.

 

"He your boss, I take it? Ugly fella, greasy hair, total douche?”

 

The demon just looked at them, his face as black as he could keep it. Then, apparently, he realised something.

 

“It’s the angel you’re looking for!” he snarled with a grin.

 

Dean squeezed the knife further into the demon’s neck, enjoying the brief whimper he produced as the skin began to break slightly.

 

“This is the last time you’ll be asked, asshole. Where is he?”

 

The demon’s grin was back. “Aw no. The big, bad hunter has lost his pet angel!” The demon’s features moved into mocking sadness. “What will you do without him?”

 

Dean fought to control what little of his temper was left. “What the fuck have you done with him?” he growled.

 

The demon just grinned, then before Dean could blink he had thrust himself forward onto Dean’s knife, killing himself instantly.

 

“Shit,” Dean cursed, dropping the demon and the knife to the ground. “Son of a bitch!”

 

Sam sat back onto his haunches, running a distressed hand through his hair. “Guess he really didn’t want to tell us anything, huh?”

 

“You think, Sammy?” Dean stood and threw his hands in the air in frustration. “What the fuck are we supposed to do now? He’s not answering your calls; the asshole isn’t acknowledging a single prayer. How are we supposed to find him if he won’t let himself be found?”

 

Sam didn’t say anything for a few moments, and when Dean looked at him he watched his brother look over at the chains, and at the pool of blood beneath them, before raising his eyes back to Dean’s, an aching sadness echoing through them. Dean shook his head, his heart exploding in his chest as he caught on to Sam’s though process.

 

“No, Sammy, no.”

 

“Dean, the demon, he said…”

 

“I heard everything he said, Sam, and he didn’t say a damn thing about Cas being dead, so don’t you dare start acting like we’ve lost him, ok? He didn’t say a damn thing about it.”

 

“We have to think about the possibility that he…”

 

“No!” Dean shouted. “I don’t have to think about it. I won’t!”

 

Sam dropped his head to his chest. “Dean…”

 

“I can’t, Sam, ok? I can’t. He can’t be gone, he isn’t gone. After all the crap we’ve been through, after everything Cas has been through, it’s not going to end like this,” Dean half expected to earn this rant in tears, but for now he was sticking with anger. “He’s not going anywhere, and he’s certainly not going anywhere thinking that I didn’t want his stubborn ass around! He’s not dying thinking that I hated him, with no idea that I…that I…”

 

Dean’s eyes finally blurred and he hid them behind his hands. He heard Sam coming as he stumbled over to him, allowed his stupidly tall brother to warp his arms around his shoulders for a moment, offering comfort that Dean so rarely accepted.

 

“Alright, Dean. Alright. We’ll find him, ok? We’ll do it.”

 

Dean just stayed still and breathed for a few minutes, forcing himself to calm down before he broke down completely and turned into a damn girl. Collected, finally, he shoved his brother off and growled at him. “Get of me, moose. You could smother a polar bear, asshole.”

 

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

 

Dean flashed a quick smile at his brother, showing his gratitude for his understanding. Sam was pretty sure things weren’t going to end well, but he would keep going and keep helping until Dean said otherwise. Who could ask for anything more than that?

 

“Fuck it,” Dean said, a new determination in his voice. “Let’s go and get the laptop back out. I’m to keep calling the asshole ‘til he answers the damn phone, and you’re gonna find him if he keeps ignoring me. Praying ain’t working, so I’m gonna annoy him.”

 

“Sure, Dean.”

 

The two of them walked towards the door, ready to get the hell out of that room, but Dean paused before he exited and turned back in, jogging back to where he had left Cas’ coat lying beside the dead demon and grabbing it. Sam waited for him by the door.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

Back at the Impala, they decided they were secluded enough here to get to work. No one was coming by any time soon, so there was no need to distance themselves from the two dead bodies inside. Sam took out the laptop and got to work quickly, hoping to find something before he needed to charge its battery or his internet allowance ran out and they needed to find some Wi-Fi. God bless good cell coverage.

 

Dean dialled Cas over and over, leaving message after message every time it went straight to voicemail. Cas’ phone might be off, but when he switched it on he was going to get a shitload of messages from a pissed off hunter. Eventually he gave up and threw his phone onto the dash.

 

“Goddamn angel.”

 

Sam was still tapping away next to him.

 

“Wait, what the hell are you doing Sam? If Cas’ phone is off…”

 

“I’m looking up Beljax. Going to the source might help us find something.”

 

“Oh. Found anything?”

 

“Not much,” Sam grumbled.

 

Dean leaned over from the driver seat, looming into Sam’s space in his effort to see the computer’s screen.

 

“Back off, Dean!”

 

“Lemme see, Sam!” Dean whined.

 

“I can’t work like this, Dean!” Sam’s left hand reached up and pushed into Dean’s chest to shove him back to his own seat. “What the hell is that?”

 

“What?” Dean asked, confused.

 

“Under your t-shirt,” Sam pointed, looking at his chest as if he could see through Dean’s clothes.

 

“What? Oh, wait.”

  
Dean reached into his shirt and pulled out the amulet. “I forgot I had this,” he said sheepishly, looking at it.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I took it from one of the demons me and Cas took out. They all had one. Meant to bring it home to check it out, but I forgot I was wearing it, with, uh, everything that happened.”

 

“You mean it’s one of the amulets that dampened Cas’ powers around the demons while they were wearing them?” Sam was looking at him incredulously.

 

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

 

“Dean, you are not dumb, so why the fuck do you keep acting like you are? Take the damn thing off.”

 

“Hey! What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean was genuinely confused.

 

“Take it off!” Sam repeated, reaching over and ripping the amulet from his neck. Dean watched open mouthed as Sam opened the door of the car and dropped it outside for good measure, closing the door again and turning to look at Dean with one eyebrow raised. “Now pray.”

 

“What the hell, Sammy!”

 

“Just pray to your damn angel, Dean! For the love of God!” Sam yelled, frustrated at his brother’s sudden slowness of mind.

 

Grumbling, Dean acquiesced. _Cas, can you hear me, Man? Sam says I’ve to pray to you, but I’ve been doing that for a day, ever since you left. You don’t answer. I need you to come here. I need to talk to you, and I need to know you’re ok, that this Baljek or whatever his name is hasn’t killed you! I-”_

 

He broke off as he heard a flutter behind him.

 

“Cas!” Sam exclaimed, turning to grin at the angel in the back seat. Dean just let his head fall forward until it hit the steering wheel with a thunk.

“Hello, Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Good to see you, man! We’ve been trying to track you down for an age; why aren’t you answering your phone?”

 

_Is Sammy talking? Why the hell is he talking, like everything’s normal? Like Cas hadn’t disappeared a day and a half ago, and we didn’t just think he was dead 15 minutes ago._

 

“I apologise, Sam, I have to admit that I didn’t check my phone for some time, and then the battery died and I didn’t bother to charge it again. I’ve been… busy.”

 

Dean was tempted to start banging his head off the steering wheel, but he just stayed frozen with his forehead pressed against it and listened with disbelief to the conversation in the car.

 

“But your note, man, it sounded like…” Sam trailed off.

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like you weren’t coming back. Like you were going to take care of this demon or whatever, and not come back.”

 

“Oh. I didn’t realise… I just meant to thank you for looking out for me earlier, Sam. And I knew that Dean would be back before me, so I wanted him to know I was going to fix my…mistake.” Cas rumbled in the back seat, his voice soft, and a little bit nervous.

 

“Un-fucking-believable,” Dean muttered.

 

“Dean?”

 

“I, uh, I’ll just go and check over the bodies again, see if there’s anything there that can help us track down whatever sent those demons after you, Cas,” Sam opened the car door, clearly desperate to leave before whatever confrontation was coming actually happened.

 

“There is no need, Sam. I took care of all the demons, after I let them torture me until they gave away the name of their ‘employer’.”

 

At the mention of torture, Dean whipped his head up and around to look at Cas in the back seat, anxiously checking him over for signs of serious injury. He looked strange without his coat, but in one piece. Dean frowned.

 

“And the big boss…?”

 

“A former angel. One of my former brothers who was cast out of heaven a long time ago, and thought that since he had nothing left that I, who he saw as being more disobedient than he, should have nothing either. I took care of it.”

 

“You, you took care of it?!?” Dean finally exploded and Sam quickly got out of the car and hurried back into the old warehouse.

 

“I do not understand the problem, Dean. This angel, or ex-angel, was a danger to you, and to Sam, so I had to fix it. Your association with me is what endangered you, so I fixed it. It was much easier to get them to give the game away when I was on my own.”

 

Dean’s jaw dropped and he stared at Cas in astonishment.

 

“The problem?! The problem, Cas, is that we thought you were in trouble, we thought you were dead, for God’s sake, and all the time you were just _taking care of business_?” he yelled.

 

“But, Dean, I had to…”

 

“You had to treat us like a team, Cas. We don’t take off on our own, we don’t let others think we have been _fucking kidnapped and killed by demons_ , and we don’t _keep secrets_.”

 

Dean was breathing heavily as he glared at Cas, struggling to make sense of his emotions. He was aware of fury, at Cas for putting himself in danger, at himself for making Cas think he had to do this, and at yet another angelic dick for putting his angel in peril. Behind all of that was the most immense feeling of relief that Dean had ever experienced, and Dean was now stuck between desire to punch Cas between the eyes or clamber over into the back seat with him and press him down into the car seat as he kissed him senseless.

 

Cas cringed away from the hunter’s anger. “I’m sorry, Dean, I messed this up too.”

 

“Damn right you did, Cas,” Dean sighed, calming down. _But I’m just glad you’re alive so that I can apologise to you for how I’ve been treating you, and explain exactly what’s been going on in this stupid head of mine_. This last sentence was what Dean intended to say next, but he didn’t quite get the chance.

 

Cas had stiffened in his seat as Dean confirmed that he had messed up, and immediately interrupted the flow of Dean’s rhetoric to apologise and promise to do better, before promptly vanishing from the Impala. Angry again, Dean swore and threw up a quick prayer.

 

_Fine, you son of a bitch, disappear. Again. But your ass better be at the bunker when we get back, or I swear to your dad I'm gonna kick your ass. You need to stop this shit and stay with us, with me. You hear me? Get your butt home._

Then he sat, seething, and waited for Sam to get back to the car so that he could get back to the bunker as quickly as possible and kick the angel’s ass, whether he was waiting for them or they had to call him down. He needed his ass kicked for this shit, and Dean was going to provide the service _._

The drive home was long, and quiet. Sam was clearly dying to ask Dean what had happened, but since he arrived back at the Impala to find only Dean inside, and the man in question glaring out of his windscreen, the only sound he’d made was a sigh as he climbed into the passenger seat. He hadn’t even bothered to ask if they were driving straight back. He figured Dean would have to stop at one point, and he would eat then. They certainly wouldn’t be stopping to sleep; no matter how tired Sam knew his brother must be feeling. The guy was too wound up to do anything but drive single-mindedly. Instead, Sam counted his blessings when Dean did decide to stop at a gas station before Sam needed to ask him to. He just got out the car, used the facilities, and stocked up on enough snacks to keep them both going for the rest of the journey. Dean didn’t ask for so much as a chip.

 

When the Impala finally pulled to a stop at the bunker, Sam couldn’t keep it in any more.

 

“Dean-”

 

“Don’t!” Dean snapped, shooting his brother a withering glare.

 

Sam just rolled his eyes. “I’ve just sat in this car with you in silence for eight and half hours, Dean. I’m going to say what I want to fucking say, and you’re going to listen, got it?”

 

Dean just raised an eyebrow, looking absolutely furious.

 

“I don’t even want to know what happened, or how you managed to fuck it up, again. I just wanted to remind you to think about everything you felt since Cas disappeared, especially that feeling you had when you thought he was lying dead in front of us. Think about that, and get him back here. Then talk to him. Properly; without being a chicken shit about telling him what you feel, and without saying something stupid and hurting both of you again. I can’t take any more angry you or moping Cas, and as much as I dread the thought of the pair of you acting like a pair of lovesick puppies around the place, I’ll settle for the googly eyes and the unexpected PDA over you both acting like a pair of morons. Alright?”

 

Everything said, Sam pushed open the door of the car and stepped out. He heard Dean follow him, but didn’t dare look round. The fact that he hadn’t responded to Sam’s outburst was most likely down to an uncomfortable mix of shock and anger, and Sam was hoping to be firmly ensconced in his room when that particular dam burst. Walking inside, he headed down the stairs, Dean still following him. Listening to his brother’s heavy breathing for signs of an emotional explosion, he almost missed the figure that moved out of the shadows to stand at the bottom of the stairs. Sam grinned and bounded down the last few steps.

 

“Hey, Cas. You’re here!” He clasped his friend on the shoulder.

 

“Yes, Sam. I’m here.”

 

Dean appeared at Sam’s side, and seemed to be suddenly struggling to speak until Cas did it for him.

 

“I believe you wanted to continue our discussion, Dean.”

 

“Fine,” he grunted, before walking past both of them and heading down the corridor that would take him to his room. Cas looked up at Sam, his expression showing that he perhaps felt a little helpless. Sam just grinned at him.

 

“It’ll be fine, Cas. Go get him, tiger!” Cas just squinted at him in confusion, until Sam laughed. “Never mind. Just, don’t worry about it, ok? It’ll be fine.”

 

He watched for a moment as the angel turned and walked slowly after his older brother, who had disappeared.

 

“Cas?” he called after him.

 

“Yes, Sam?”

 

“Tell him to remember what I said.”

 

With a grin, Sam decided bed could wait and headed to the kitchen to grab himself a sandwich.

 

Dean rolled his eyes when he heard a knock on his door less than half a minute after he entered his room. Squaring his shoulders, he moved to open to the door and let Cas inside. Sam’s words were twisting in his mind, and although his frustration with Cas was still churning, he was reliving that hideous moment when he had thought Cas was dead, over and over. It wasn’t really helping him rein himself in.

 

“Get in here, then, if you’re coming in,” he winced at the sharpness of the tone.

 

Slowly, Cas stepped inside and closed the door behind him, standing sedately in front of it and looking imploringly at Dean. Quickly, the hunter realised that he was expected to speak, and he didn’t have a clue how to start.

 

“What? You don’t have anything else to say, Cas? What the hell are you doing here then?”

 

"You said _home_ , Dean."

 

Dean's frustration melted and his stomach dropped at the aching sadness in the angel's quiet voice. He realised all too quickly what he meant. "But, Cas, of course it's your home, man."

 

Cas' shoulders moved in a tiny little shrug, and his luminous eyes dropped from Dean's face. "You never said so before."

 

"What? Of course I..."

 

"No. You didn't. You talked of it as your home, of yours and Sam's, but never mine. I don't belong anywhere."

 

Dean grabbed the angel's shoulders before tilting Cas' face up to look at him. He was startled to see the beginnings of tears in his eyes. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, crushing him tightly to his chest and dropping his head so that his nose and mouth were buried in Cas' shoulders. Castiel's shoulders were shaking slightly in his sadness, but Dean was unsurprised to feel that the lump that had been present in his throat for some time had now dissolved into blurry eyes of his own.

 

"I'm so sorry, Cas. I'm so sorry. You belong here, with us. This is your home, and _we_ are your _family_. I'm so sorry, buddy. I'm sorry."

 

They stood like that for a few moments, Cas saying nothing but clinging tightly to the back of Dean's shirt as if he would never let him go. Dean found himself quite happy with the thought.

 

Suddenly, the angel released his grip and pushed himself out of Dean's grasp. His face was quite blank, which made Dean cringe. The walls were back up.

 

"You don't have to say that, Dean. I find myself quite accepting of my lack of home, my lack of family. I am aware of my limitations; of the mistakes I have made. I would not expect you to provide me with a home when I have wronged you and Sam so often, when I have endangered you both. I will continue to come when you need me, but do not think or feel that you have to pity me, Dean. It is not an angel's place, after all, to have such a bond, or such a family. It's fine. Don't pity me. Please."

 

Dean's heart broke when Cas' composure and voice did on his last word, coming out only as a broken whisper.

 

"Cas..." Dean couldn't even finish his sentence. he had no idea what to say to Cas, to his friend, who was trying so hard to hide how broken he had been by Dean's careless dismissal of him. What could he possibly say?

 

For a moment it looked like Cas was going to take off, and Dean found himself thrusting out an arm to catch hold of his hand. "Don't! Don't go, Cas. I meant it, I meant all of it. Don’t you dare leave again, damnit."

 

"But, Dean..."

 

"No, Cas," Dean took a deep breath and twisted his hand in Cas' so that their fingers laced together. "It's not pity, ok? I was trying to tell you, before you got all pissy and flew off again. I need you. I need you here, with me and Sam, in the bunker, out on hunts. I need you, with me."

 

Cas was looking at him blankly, his eyes twitching down to their clinging hands.

 

"Do you get it, Cas?"

 

The angel's eyes just widened as he shook his head slightly. Dean sighed. Of course he didn't. The hunter stepped forward, using his free hand to cup the side of Cas' face and stroked his cheek gently with his thumb. The angel's eyes locked onto his and widened impossibly so that Dean almost chuckled. Instead, he just smiled and squeezed his hand. "I need you.  _With_  me, Cas. Here, always. Do you get it, angel? I'm not sure I can say it any other way."

 

Always that same damn fear holding him back, but this time the light in Cas' brightening eyes told Dean that at last the angel was getting it. That he was getting that he wasn't  _useful_ , or  _helpful_ , or  _convenient_. He would never be those things, because he was  _wanted_. There was a hesitant nod, and Dean breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

 

"Good," was all he said before he pulled Cas' face to his own and smashed their lips together.

 

The feeling of uneasiness was brief. A flash of ‘ _ohmygodi’mkissingagoddamdude_ ’ zipped through Dean’s head, but was chased out immediately by the warmth of Cas’ lips against his, the way the angel’s breath hitched as the kiss began, and the feeling of two strong hands grasping him firmly by the hips. The fluttering in Dean’s stomach and chest had a lot to do with how amazing he suddenly felt, too.

 

The kiss started softly, just Dean’s lips pressed softly to Cas’, the hand that was cupping his angel’s cheek stroked softly downwards then along his jawline. Cas took all of a second to kiss him back, his lips pressing more firmly into Dean’s at the same time he took hold of the hunter. Surprisingly, it was Cas who deepened the kiss, nipping Dean’s bottom lip gently and pressing his tongue inside the resulting gasp to meet Dean’s which enthusiastically reciprocated. Dean heard moaning, but realised quickly that it was coming from him, and then he lost his mind. Fuck it. This was Cas, and it was fucking everything he wanted.

 

“Cas,” he whispered briefly as he pulled back, flashing a quick grin at the stunned look on the other man’s face before he pulled him back in to resume their kiss. This time, his hands moved; one slid into Cas too-damn-sexy hair while the other pressed tightly into his back, pulling Cas’ willing body closer to him until they were pressed together completely. Dean groaned as Cas’ hands slid from his hips to slide round his body, both of them sliding up his back until one was clutching his shoulder while the other was scratching lightly at the soft hair at Dean’s neck. Dean groaned as the kiss deepened further, pouring everything he possibly could into this moment.

 

“Fuck, Cas. How the hell did you get so good at this?” he gaped at him when he pulled back, resolutely ignoring the niggling jealousy that told him Cas had learned this from someone who wasn’t him. What right did he have to expect Cas to wait for him while he trailed through a number of one night stands?

 

Cas just grinned at him. “I have been watching humanity for a long time, Dean. And imagining this moment for a long time, also.”

 

“That so?” Dean answered with a grin of his own, pleased to finally see happiness on his angel’s face. He stepped in closer, an almost impossible feat, and pressed their foreheads together. “Any other moments you’ve imagined?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

 

Dean lifted his head for a moment at Cas’ snarky comment and barked out a laugh. The guy was _teasing_ him! He dropped his head down and winked at Cas. “You bet I would.”

 

Cas bit his lip and pushed Dean’s face away from his by pressing his forehead forward. “Dean, are you sure this is what you want?”

 

The hunter wished he could be astonished at the doubt he could hear, and the fear he could see, but he couldn’t kid himself that he wasn’t to blame for every time Cas was going to find it difficult to believe that Dean cared. Sighing, he cupped Cas’ face in both hands and leaned in to press a soft, delicate kiss to his lips. As he pulled away, he realised that Cas had closed his eyes.

 

“Hey,” he whispered, waiting until Castiel was looking at him before he continued. “I am here, and I want this, ok? I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

 

“Ok, Dean,” Cas smiled at him, and Dean watched for a few seconds as acceptance filtered through his features until he was relaxed in his arms once again.

 

“But, uh, about the other stuff...” Dean struggled to explain to Cas that while he most definitely wanted him, and everything that entailed, he wasn’t necessarily ready to move anything on any further just a day after he’d finally realised how he felt.

 

“Dean,” Cas’ hands came up to cradle his face as he dropped his own to his sides. “There is time, for everything. I just want to be with you for now, if you will let me.”

 

“That sounds grea…” Dean was abruptly cut off by a sizable yawn. He smiled sheepishly through watering eyes when it was over. “Sorry.”

 

“You haven’t slept for some time. I should leave you to sleep.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but realised that the angel hadn’t moved. He raised an eyebrow at Cas. The angel smirked.

 

“Just because I should leave doesn’t mean that I will. But I do believe that you need to sleep.”

 

Relieved that he didn’t have to ask Cas to stay, Dean pulled him in for a quick, firm kiss. “Come on, angel. Let’s get ready for bed.”

 

Within two minutes, both men were stripped down to boxers and wearing clean t-shirts from Dean’s dresser. Dean climbed into bed quickly, lying on his side and facing the empty half before lifting the covers to invite Cas in. He was trying not to look at him too closely, having completely underestimated how hot his angel would look wearing his clothes. Within seconds, Cas was lying down beside him, though, and Dean was manhandling him onto his side so that he could spoon up behind him and wrap them tightly together. He heard a contented sigh from in front of him when they finally settled in place, and found himself smiling happily and vowing to hold onto this. Whatever it turned out to be.

 

There would be no more careless words. Anger, sure; when were he and Cas not pissing each other off? But he was going to be careful; he was going to never hurt the angel again with stupid words, and with not being able to say what he was actually thinking. He was shit scared, no denying it, but he had to be honest - to both of them.

 

He tightened his hold on Cas and pressed a soft kiss into the back of his neck.

 

"I love you, Cas," he murmured.

 

The angel just squeezed the hands that were wrapped tightly around him.

 

"I love you, too."

 

There. Easy. Dean sighed and let himself drift slowly off. Tomorrow he would awaken and everything would change; but that was fine.

 

Tomorrow he would awaken, and for once he would be happy to do so. Tomorrow, he would wake up with Cas, and from then on, he would have a  _life_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, I think!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and thank you all so much for leaving comments and kudos! I really appreciate it, with my first fic in a new fandom. All encouragement is gratefully received!
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> B xx


End file.
